


Dissolve Into Radiance

by SublimeDiscordance



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Sibling Incest, Yancy Becket Lives
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-31
Updated: 2014-08-31
Packaged: 2018-02-15 11:58:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2228199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SublimeDiscordance/pseuds/SublimeDiscordance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the drift, they are gods.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dissolve Into Radiance

**Author's Note:**

  * For [suyari](https://archiveofourown.org/users/suyari/gifts).



> ANOTHER NEW WORK??? I know, right? 
> 
> Given that my life has been superbly busy as of late, I have been completely unable to write anything for WEEKS. I think my muse is in a coma. 
> 
> Regardless, this has been sitting on my computer for, oh, a month and a half? Something like that. It's a birthday fic for the lovely Suyari (whose birthday was over a month ago) and I figured, what the hell, might as well go ahead and post it. It's all plotted out (like so many other things are) so I at least know where it's going and what'll happen. 
> 
> Unbeta'd.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title comes from the Lindsey Stirling song of the same name. (Which is, incidentally, the same song that inspired this story)

In the drift, there is nothing between them. Nothing holding them back.

They come together in a collision of minds, golden beings in the golden expanse of their thoughts and memories, the landscape shaping itself according to their imagination, bending at the behest of their will. Words flow freely, no longer bound by things so material as lips and tongues, less constrained by syllables and more by the limits of their brains and hearts.

After all, there are things that cannot be said with words alone.

Here, on this plane, they are the masters, the gatekeepers, and the guardians. They preside over their domain, sliding over and within one another until you becomes me and we becomes I and what is left but to laugh, to _exult_ , in their power?

In the drift, they can roam, free, about the scape of their own thoughts, wade in the eddies of memory, swim within their shared experiences and absorb perspective like desert sand: learning how their own cock tastes, what it feels like to be inside themselves, to have their own girth splitting them wide open with the most delicious of stretches and burns. Revelations sweep past, around, through them, and they collect them like grains of sand until they stand atop a dune, metaphysical arms wrapped tight, unbreakable, unshakeable, around one another.

In the drift, they are untouchable. They are the Becket Brothers, Raleigh and Yancy— _RaleighandYancy_ —and they have the strongest drift ever recorded. When their minds slot together, it’s less about creating a connection and more about _coming home_ , because, for the two of them, they will never belong anywhere except at one another’s side.

In the drift, they are unstoppable; a force of nature. Kaiju fall before them with almost contemptuous ease, blue-steel fists hammering the monsters back to the hell from which they came. They are invincible. They are not slowed by the face of certain death, the howl of the abyss; instead, they master it, pummel it with plasma and dark energy and rocket-powered blows until succumbs to _their_ will.

In the drift, they are _gods_.

 

—

 

Leaving the drift is the single most painful thing Raleigh’s ever felt.

He can still feel Yancy’s soul singeing his fingertips, _aches_ at the hollowness disengaging leaves in his chest. His vision blurs and a sob wrenches itself from his throat, and he looks up to make sure his comm is off because _jesus_ he does not need questions from some new tech at LOCCENT who doesn’t understand the _coldalonesocold_ that pilots feel when they power down.

A white-armor-clad arm is already reaching in front of him, flicking the red switch to off.

“You okay kid?” It isn’t a question. Not really. Raleigh shakes his head with a shrug.

“I…” is all he manages to get out, the single word cracking down the middle, before Yancy’s hand is on his shoulder. Warmth spreads from the contact, the layers of polycarbonate plating and wiring-embedded fiber between them ensuring that it has nothing to do with actual heat and everything to do with the sparks Raleigh can feel traveling underneath both of their skin. In that moment, the ghost drift flares between them, and he nearly sobs again, hitting the release for his harness on instinct to tumble forward. Yancy is there to catch him—as always—and his brother has both their helmets off in seconds flat before their foreheads are pressed together. Raleigh’s eyes slip shut as they shift as one, noses brushing, in-time breaths mingling.

The brush of Yancy’s lips against his own is almost as sweet a relief as the drift itself.

“It’s okay kiddo.” He’s not sure if the words are in the air caressing his tongue or if they’re being sung straight into his thoughts, his brother taking him apart piece by piece so that he won’t hurt as much when he’s put back together. “I gotcha. I’m right here. Not going anywhere.”

 

—

 

For just a moment, as Yancy is sliding into him in one long, continuous thrust, gold lightning racing under their skin and arcing between their joined, unblinking eyes, Raleigh can convince himself that they’re still drifting. That he can feel his brother’s consciousness writhing within his own. Can almost imagine that the rest of the world doesn’t exist except the sheets that rumple under his back, the metal frame that creaks with their slow, sedate rolling of hips; the feeling of his brother’s skin under his fingertips. Nothing else matters except the way Yancy’s lips taste, the way every muscle in his body ripples with a sinuous sort of grace as he moves into Raleigh with something that transcends love, or the way Raleigh can’t seem to get enough air, can’t seem to _breathe_ , as moisture collects at the corners of his eyes only to be kissed away moments later.

It’s too good.

It’s _too perfect_.

“ _Yance_ ,” the word is nothing short of a whine, but Raleigh doesn’t care, vision now blurred, hands groping almost blindly over the hot expanse of skin above him, “Yance, _please_. _Need_ you.”

His brother's next thrust takes him by surprise the way it always does, the raw strength and barely-restrained power behind it. Their own private universe explodes behind Raleigh's eyelids, and he finally lets himself go. Lets himself float in the whispers of their drift still strung between them, anchored only by the arms that bracket him, the hand that reaches down to stroke him almost too-hard-too-fast yet so perfect because it’s in sync with the slick glide of his brother within him and the knowledge that this is _Yancy_ , his brother, his _everything_ suddenly flashes across his mind, across _their_ mind, and he’s gone.

Raleigh melts into the gold. Here, now, with his brother spilling deep inside of him and his own cock coating them both with his release, his mind shattering, he is a god once more.

If only for a moment.

 

—

 

Yancy won’t look at him. Even when Raleigh straddles his brother’s hips, craning his neck over and down so that their faces are no more than inches apart, the eyes he has known his whole life—could read with ease even _before_ they began drifting together—looking anywhere but at him. A sigh escapes into the air between them, and Raleigh closes the gap between them to plant a brief kiss on Yancy’s turned cheek.

“Yance, c’mon, talk to me.”

He sees a thinning of lips, feels something hard, resolute, and _cold_ at the back of his mind where Yancy’s thoughts normally vibrate softly. Another sigh.

“Yance, please, just...tell me what’s wrong?”

It’s a pointless question, and they both know it. The answer is there if Raleigh allows himself to look for it, to dig past the surface and take in the way Yancy’s muscles tense, the way his brother’s mind churns with guilt and self-recrimination. Still, some part of him wants his brother to say it, to take responsibility for the way he feels—even if Raleigh doesn’t _like_ that Yancy feels this way, though a part of him supposes that it’s inevitable given his brother’s overprotective nature.

Thankfully, he doesn’t have to wait long.

“Why are we doing this, Rals?”

His leg relaxing and folding beneath him, Raleigh slides down until they’re face to face, his hands seeking out Yancy’s and twining their fingers together, holding on tight. He leans forward to nuzzle at the point where jawline and neck meet, tongue laving at the skin there; this close, he can’t miss the shiver he’s sure Yancy tried, but failed, to hide, nor can he miss the way deep gray-blue eyes flicker to him and then away, almost pleading.

“What d’you mean?” He lets his breath ghost over those lips, the need to lean in and nibble them until they’re flushed pink and swollen near-tangible.

“I mean _this_.” Despite the lack of space between them, Yancy still somehow manages to gesture at them both. “We’re _brothers_ , Rals. We...I shouldn’t be doing this to you. I should—”

“If the next words out of your mouth are that you should be better, should _know_ better,” there’s something hot curling in Raleigh’s gut, reaching up to crawl out his throat in the form of near-hissed words, “then I swear to god, Yance, I will deck you right here and now.”

At the way his brother’s eyes widen and blink, once, twice, the heat evaporates, vanishing as if it’d never been there. Raleigh’s shoulders, which had apparently tensed, relax back onto the thin bunk mattress, and he lifts a single hand to wrap around Yancy’s jaw lovingly. Because, really, that’s all he can do in the moments like these.

“I’m sorry, Yance, I just...I want this. And I don’t think you’re a bad person for wanting it, too. I don’t _care_ that we’re brothers,” the thumb of his free hand rests on Yancy’s lips, cutting off whatever he’d been about to say, “and neither should you. I know you had issues with this for a long time, even before I finally got my head out of my ass and saw what was right in front of me.”

Raleigh leans forward, the back of his mind swimming with doubt and uncertainty that is not his own, and presses his lips to his brother’s. He smiles when he feels them kiss back, even if only slightly.

“You are the most important person in the world to me, Yance. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you. But I’m still my own person. If I didn’t want this, I wouldn’t do it. But I _do_ , Yance.”

A flash of heat goes through him as he leans up to get a better angle for their lips to meet, their cocks, mostly soft, brushing against one another at the motion, and he can’t tell whether it’s his or not this time. Raleigh can feel himself hardening quickly despite the mindblowing—pun absolutely intended—sex they’d just had. He slowly ruts against the point where Yancy’s leg and hip meet—he can feel his brother’s body trembling ever so slightly—pulling in a hiss through his teeth, somehow managing to continue speaking.

“God, _fuck_ , Yance, you have no idea how much I want this— _you_. This isn’t the drift talking, this is _me_. I _love_ you. You didn’t do this to me, okay? You didn’t make me like this. I _chose_ this.”

He lifts the leg that’s still propped on his brother’s hip, bracing and pushing himself up so that he turns Yancy onto his back. He arches his body, letting his brother’s swiftly-growing cock brush against his still-stretched rim. The groan he gets out of Yancy—breathy and full of such _desire_ it makes Raleigh’s head swim—is the sweetest noise he’s ever heard.

“That’s right, Yance,” he brings their joined hands down to his now-rock hard cock, a pearl of precome is already beading at the tip, “ _you_ do this to me. Because I _want_ you. Because I _love_ you and because _this_ ,” he reaches back and, in one quick movement, grabs Yancy’s dick and holds it steady so he can sink down onto it. Even wet and loose from earlier, the sudden stretch and burn is too much, too fast, but he finds he doesn’t care when Yancy’s corner of his mind flares to life, an unintelligible torrent of emotions and warmth filling him as effectively as the cock in his ass. It’s only after he’s managed to bring himself, panting heavily, back into his body, out of the gold realm stretching between them, that he manages to pick up the thread of his thoughts, hips rolling in a familiar motion as he rides his brother.

“ _This_ is all I need. All I’ll ever want. Just you, Yance. Just you. And _fuck_ whatever anyone else thinks. _I choose you_. I’ll _always_ choose you.”

It only takes him a few minutes to coax a second orgasm out of his brother, Yancy coming with Raleigh’s name on his lips.

It’s that, more even than the way Yancy’s cock is rutting against his prostate or the warmth filling him, that sends him over the edge a second time. This time, Yancy kisses him back and doesn’t turn away.

After all, neither of them have ever been very good with words.


End file.
